


Frosting

by LeanaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Newgrange, Yule log
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:37:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanaM/pseuds/LeanaM
Summary: Pansy and Hermione wanted to spend Christmas together. But it doesn't all work out quite the way they wanted.





	Frosting

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> Pairing: Hermione/Pansy  
> Location: Ireland  
> Word Prompt: Yule Log

 

* * *

_**Frosting** _

* * *

 

 

Pansy was _not_ amused. At all. She trudged behind her girlfriend, who was listening intently to the guide taking them around Newgrange. The site was rife with ancient magic and of course Hermione had wanted to visit it as soon as she heard about it. She’d wanted to see the light flood the inner chamber on the Winter Solstice.

But Ireland was fucking cold in December. And wet. And cold. And warming charms didn’t work around the ancient monument, the magical energy of the place eradicated all spellwork

Pansy kicked at a stone and cursed when it turned out to be a massive rock that didn’t even move an inch at the impact. Her toe, on the other hand, was not so lucky as to be unaffected.

Hermione turned around, a bright smile on her face, which faded when she saw the thunderclouds in Pansy’s eyes. She sidled up to her girlfriend and slid her arm through hers. “What’s wrong, love?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Nothing, sweetness. I can’t imagine anything better to do at Christmas than trudge through the mud, cold and wet to the bone, with no magic to warm me. I’m having a splendid time. Much better than, say, if I’d joined Draco and Theo on their skiing trip. Much better than, say, going to Barbados with Daphne and Astoria. So much better.”

Hermione chuckled and pressed cold lips to Pansy’s cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re cross.”

Pansy sighed dramatically and exaggerated a shudder.

“You wouldn’t have _me_ in Switzerland, or Barbados. Surely that’s worth something?” Hermione flashed her a grin, then leaned in closer and whispered in Pansy’s ear, “And I love it when you’re utterly, thoroughly, wet for me.”

Pansy’s lips twitched. She didn’t want to smile but it was hard. “Classy, Granger. Very classy,” she muttered, looking away, slightly flushed.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” Hermione said, and with another kiss on Pansy’s cheek, she was gone again, darting towards the guide, eager to hear every word. 

Pansy wrapped her arms around her stomach and sighed again. “You better make this worth my while, Granger.”

 

* * *

 

 _Maybe Ireland hadn’t been such a bad decision after all_ , Pansy thought as she stretched out on the rug before the open fire. The little cottage Hermione had organised for them belonged to a Muggle. It was miles from any form of civilisation and not connected to the Floo. But it was cosy, and cute, and just for them.

Hermione lay down next to her and started peppering soft kisses on her neck. “You still angry?”

Pansy hesitated. She wasn’t, not really. But it wouldn’t hurt to play the injured party for a little longer. She tilted her head away from Hermione and crossed her arms.

Hermione chuckled against her skin, and the sound reverberated through Pansy’s body. “You really are adorable when you’re cross.”

Pansy didn’t respond, but when Hermione’s hands sought the hem of her shirt and trailed soft patterns over her skin, she couldn’t help a satisfied sigh escaping her. One hand slipped under the waistband of her leggings, the other continued to draw lazy circles on her stomach.

Hermione bit down on the sensitive spot between neck and shoulder, then soothing the sting with her tongue, and Pansy let out a surprised gasp. 

“So, how can I make it up to you, love?” Hermione asked, her voice laced with amusement. One hand cupped a breast, and her thumb circled Pansy’s sensitive nipple. The other hand traced over her knickers.

“This is a good start.” Pansy sucked in a sharp breath when Hermione’s fingers found her clit. “But you still have a way to go.” Hermione continued to explore her, mouth and fingers dancing over every part of her body. Fireworks exploded in her stomach, a surge of excited magic coursed through her blood and tingles spread all over her skin from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Hermione grinned at her. “I guess I better continue then,” she murmured, before catching Pansy’s lips with hers. Her tongue traced the seam of Pansy’s lips, begging for entry, and Pansy resisted only for a moment. Hermione caught her lower lip between her teeth and let them scrape languidly. Shivers ran down Pansy’s spine and she gasped, and Hermione’s tongue was in her mouth, caressing hers, teasing, demanding.

Pansy never even noticed Hermione had started pulling down leggings. Her own hands were tugging at Hermione’s woollen jumper, trying to find their way under her many layers of clothes until skin touched skin. Hermione straddled her hips and began to kiss down her neck and collarbone, unbuttoning her shirt one button at a time, tending to every inch of skin that was bared to her. Pansy gave up on trying to undress Hermione and lay back, eyes closed, enjoying the sensations her girlfriend managed to evoke.

 _Yes, Ireland was, perhaps, not that bad, after all._ The scent of the firewood mingled with the dried lavender that hung from the ceiling beams and the distinct, scorching scent of… something burning.

Pansy’s eyes shot open and she turned towards the open fire, but the panic that had been building subsided when she noticed the fire was burning merrily, and safely, in the hearth. “Hermione…” Pansy sniffed carefully. She tried to sit up and prodded at Hermione’s shoulder to get her attention. “Hermione!” She sniffed again. Hermione tried to push her down again, but Pansy would have none of it. She grabbed Hermione’s chin and forced her to look up. “Something’s burning.”

Hermione looked dazed, and not a little annoyed. She licked her lips, and Pansy could feel her body react at the innocent gesture.

“Wha… what?”

“Hermione, love, something’s burning. Did you leave anything in the oven?”

Hermione’s face changed from confused to horrified. She sprang up and ran to the kitchen. “Oh no! The cake!”

Pansy cursed under her breath, annoyed at the interruption, but she couldn’t let Hermione continue their lovemaking when the house was likely to catch fire. She kicked her leggings off and followed Hermione to the kitchen.

She found her girlfriend tossing the smoking, charred remains of what might, at some point, have become a cake into the garden in the pouring rain.

Hermione sat down in a chair, her head drooping dejectedly. “I meant to make a Yule log for you, but it’s burnt and now Christmas is totally ruined and it’s all my fault and I…”

Pansy put her hand over Hermione’s mouth. “It’s okay, love, please don’t worry. It’s only a cake.”

“It was my Yule log!” came Hermione’s muffled voice from behind Pansy’s hand.

Pansy could see how upset she was and she looked around the kitchen, desperately trying to find something that would make Hermione smile again. Her eyes caught something on the table behind her girlfriend and she smirked. She straddled Hermione’s lap and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Do you know what the best thing is about a Yule log?” she asked.

Hermione shook her head. She still looked devastated.

Pansy’s brought one hand back, fingers coated in chocolate frosting. “The frosting,” she said with a wicked smile. She gently coated Hermione’s lips in the sugary concoction, then began to lick it off in tiny, teasing flicks of her tongue. Hermione slowly began to smile again, and when Pansy leaned back, quite satisfied that there was no more frosting on Hermione’s lips, Hermione surprised her by catching Pansy’s fingers in her mouth and sucking off the last traces of frosting.

“You’re right,” she murmured. “And I have a few ideas of what we can do with it now we don’t have a cake to decorate.” She grinned. “I believe we were in the middle of something back there?”

Pansy scooped some more frosting on her fingers and licked it off slowly. Her eyes were fixed on Hermione’s, a challenge she knew the woman would never back down from. “I have a vague recollection that you were about to make things up to me?”

Hermione sighed and pressed her lips against Pansy’s. “Let’s take this back to the other room,” she murmured between kisses, her hand trailing over Pansy’s naked legs. “You’re cold.”

Pansy slid off her lap and sashayed towards the door. She looked over her shoulder at Hermione. “Better bring that frosting, Granger.”


End file.
